Baja Honeymoon

by Roland Graeme

  Ken couldn’t resist a grunt of satisfaction. He knew he had the upper hand in their evolving sexual relationship. Experience counted for a great deal in such matters, after all. Rick might not have realized it, not consciously, anyway, but he was reaping the benefit of hundreds of other blow jobs Ken had performed over the years.

  Squeezing Rick’s balls with an eager, slowly tightening grip, Ken began to bob his head up and down on the full length of the other man’s cock with a steady, relentless pumping action. Again and again as he took the massive cylinder to the fullest possible extent, he brought his tongue into play around its base at the same time—motions calculated to drive Rick crazy. Ken was now working his mouth so rapidly that, for all practical purposes, he was managing to suck the cock and lick the balls below it at the same time.

  Ken wasn’t content to merely lick and stroke the end of Rick’s steaming prick. He attacked it with nipping laps and bites, darting thrusts. Ken could feel Rick’s cock inflating with the extra influx of blood that filled and swelled its veins, preparing it for its discharge. The hot cum was churning around within the confines of his balls, almost ready to boil up toward the mad rushing overflow of orgasm.

  Rick grabbed two handfuls of Ken’s hair and began to pull Ken’s head even closer against his groin.

  “Take it, you cocksucker,” he demanded. “Take it, because I’m going to come in your fucking mouth. Suck my jizz down your goddamn throat. Suck it all down. Take my cum. Swallow it.”

  When the scalding cum erupted seconds later, rather than holding it in his mouth in preparation for spitting it out, or allowing it to run out the corners of his mouth, Ken threw his head back and tossed the flow of hot jism right down his throat as though it were the most delicious drink he had ever tasted. He went back for more, diving his head over Rick’s cock. He sucked and swallowed until he thought Rick’s balls would melt, flow through the core of his erection, and then out the head of his prick, and join his semen in Ken’s stomach.

  The taste of Rick’s cum intoxicated Ken as though he’d ingested not semen, but some fine wine. And when Rick—laughing breathlessly with that slight embarrassment so many guys display immediately after climax—grabbed him and kissed him full and hungrily on the mouth, Ken’s erotic drunkenness seemed to spike sharply. Giddy with pleasure, he returned the kiss.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  TENT MATES

  WHILE DRIVING the next day, they stopped at a Pemex station, with its familiar green, red, and white logo, to fill up and take turns using the restroom. While waiting for Rick to come out, Ken added the gas he just purchased to the running tally of expenses he was keeping in his journal. Then he added a quick, impulsive entry.

  I guess I’m in love with Rick. Fuck, I sure didn’t count on this happening. I don’t dare let him find out how much I care about him. He’d never let me hear the end of it.

  I wonder how he really feels about me. I know we’ve been having lots of fun together on the road, and we’ve also been having ourselves one hell of a good time together in bed at night. But once we get back home—

  Rick, returning to the pickup, interrupted him. “What are you writing there, with that look of intense concentration on your face?”

  “Oh, just a description of the scenery we drove through this morning,” Ken lied.

  “Read it to me.”

  “Hell, no. You’d just laugh.”

  “Why? Have you been waxing poetic?” Rick teased him.

  “Yeah.” Ken put his journal away. “Let’s roll.” It was only then that he noticed that Rick was carrying a newspaper rolled up in his hand. “What’s that?” Ken asked.

  Rick grimaced. “The latest.” He unfurled the newspaper and showed it to Ken. It was another Spanish-language tabloid, with a head shot of Rick as its cover photo and the headline Has Deacon Rowe Found True Love Here in Mexico?

  “I certainly hope so,” Ken joked—although, even as he said the words, he wasn’t so sure it was a joke, at least not so far as he was concerned.

  “Don’t flatter yourself. It says right here that I’m secretly engaged to be married to one of those Mexico City debutantes.”

  “Oh, really? Which one?”

  “The pork sausage heiress. Her dad owns a string of meat-processing plants.”

  “Congratulations. Does this mean we get free sausage?”

  “No. And speaking of sausage, go stuff yourself.”

  “I keep you around to take care of that chore.”

  Rick had the grace to laugh as he tossed the tabloid onto the seat of the pickup beside him.

  They were eager to get to the next stop marked on their map. This was an isolated canyon, which their guidebook described as a starting point for some attractive hikes. Leaving the main highway, they took a dusty dirt road that ran parallel to some power lines. The road followed the power lines until they changed direction and were suspended over the entrance to a narrow canyon. A low concrete dam served to contain a dry creek bed as it exited the canyon, and nearby was a transformer station and several outbuildings.

  None of this looked very promising at first, but in the distance, deeper into the canyon, they could see multicolored cliffs and rock formations rising above dense vegetation.

  They parked beside a patch of sagebrush and put together day packs for the hike. This particular hike was highly recommended by one of the guidebooks, and they were eager to check it out. The book described a beautiful canyon trek complete with swimming holes along the way and spectacular ocean views from the top.

  “Look. There must be a wet season when there’s more water flowing through the canyon,” Rick observed, pointing to several shallow pools covered in fluorescent green pond scum.

  Even without any sign of the promised swimming holes, it was an impressive hike. There wasn’t much of a trail, so the two men followed the dry creek bed up the canyon. At times they had to clamber over huge piles of boulders that were all jumbled together and blocked the way. In places, the canyon floor was so narrow that they had to climb up water-carved channels and spouts in the bedrock.

  They persisted and kept going up the canyon until they were blocked by house-sized boulders and sheer canyon walls. Ken searched for a way they could climb over them, but couldn’t see a good route. Not wanting to give up just yet, he attempted several routes, but without success. In the end he decided they’d be better off to stop here and enjoy the scenery before they hurt themselves.

  Once they decided they could go no farther, they sat in the cool shade of the canyon and lounged on smooth rocks. There was a brackish pool of water at the base of the rock pile where a waterfall had carved out a deep pothole. They debated the possibility of swimming, but decided against it after noticing all the skeeter bugs and the thick layer of scum on the surface.

  Instead they found a place strewn with huge, flat rocks; they lay side by side on one of them, on their backs, looking up at the sky and the canyon’s rim, just relaxing for a while. The sweet smell of sage hung in the air, and they could hear the gurgle of thin streams of water trickling down the sandstone cliffs, and the rustle of cottonwood trees as they stirred sluggishly in the breeze.

  Resuming their walk down the canyon, they saw deep, narrow cracks and fissures piercing it here and there. Some of these breaks penetrated low enough to allow glimpses of the flatter ground beyond the canyon, and through one of them the hikers could see the deep blue of the ocean only a few miles away on the horizon. It seemed odd to be so close to the ocean while standing deep in a desert canyon. Toward the end of their hike, the noonday sun finally penetrated the depths of the canyon and the temperature soared. Sweating but still enjoying the hike, they stripped off their shirts and made their way slowly back to where they left the truck.

  In camp that evening, Ken volunteered to make dinner.

  “Why don’t we hit the sack a bit early again tonight?” Rick suggested.

  “Sure. Are you tired?”

  “Not particularly.”
r />   Ken leered at his buddy. “Horny?”

  “Kind of.”

  “You can’t wait to get in bed with me and fool around a little, is that it?”

  “Don’t rub it in,” Rick muttered, looking a bit shamefaced.

  Ken laughed but grabbed hold of Rick and kissed him. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s get these things put away and let’s go to bed.”

  Inside the tent, both men stripped. It was a warm night, conducive to sleeping in the nude, and in fact both of their bodies had begun to perspire lightly.

  “You want the lamp on or off?” Ken asked.

  “On, I guess.”

  “Me, too. I like to see what I’m doing. You lie back and just let me play with you for a while,” Ken suggested.

  “Okay.” There was an undisguised eagerness in Rick’s voice that Ken found most encouraging.

  Ken began by making love to Rick, but his buddy didn’t remain passive for long. On the contrary, Rick displayed an aggression that took Ken by surprise.

  Rick seemed insatiable when it came to kissing Ken; he used his mouth everywhere on Ken’s body, but he always returned his lips to Ken’s own waiting and eagerly receptive mouth. Even when they were fucking, face to face, with Ken’s legs supported on Rick’s shoulders, Rick kept leaning forward over him and kissing him on the mouth. His tongue darted in and out of Ken’s mouth, imitating the steady motion of his cock as it slid back and forth within the firm sheath of Ken’s ass.

  It wasn’t a rough fuck. Rick was gentle. He moved slowly, taking his time. He seemed to want to prolong their pleasure for as long as possible. He coaxed himself, and Ken, to the edge of orgasm again and again, only to back away and leave them both tottering on the brink. At last, though, the delight they took in each other’s bodies was too much. They came together, laughing and shouting.

  It took them some time to recover from the intensity of the experience. They lay together, sweating, breathing hard. Rick was reluctant to withdraw his spent but still turgid cock from Ken’s ass.

  “Oh, Rick,” Ken whispered. “It feels so good … it feels so good to have you in me, like this.”

  “Yeah, man,” Rick echoed him hoarsely. “And I can’t believe how good it feels to be inside you like this. I’d like to leave my cock in you forever.”

  “I wish you could.”

  “No,” Rick conceded with a breathless little laugh. “If we could literally fuck nonstop, then it wouldn’t be so special. We’d probably get bored and start fantasizing about abstinence, eroticizing it.”

  “That’d be quite a change, for me,” Ken had to admit.

  “And I don’t want you to change, Ken. I like you just the way you are.”

  Their bodies had slowed their frantic motions, and their breathing and heartbeats were beginning to return to normal, as well. Ken lay happily in his friend’s loose, sweaty embrace.

  THEY WERE on the road the next morning when Ken, who was driving, noticed that Rick seemed to be in a pensive mood.

  “You’re kind of quiet,” Ken observed.

  “Am I? Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Oh, all sorts of things,” Rick responded more than a little evasively, Ken couldn’t help thinking. “How about you? Have you given any thought to what we’re going to do when we get back home?”

  “No, I’ve been having too much fun to think about it at all. Until just now, thanks to you reminding me and spoiling it all,” Ken joked. “I don’t know about you, but the first thing I’ll probably do is make sure my buildings are still standing. As long as they are, any other crises that may have developed while I was gone, I should be able to deal with.” Ken waited for Rick to say something, and when he didn’t, he went on. “As for you, you’ll have all those reporters to deal with again.”

  “But not for long, I hope. Eventually, they’ll lose interest in me, when the next scandal comes along.” Rick paused. “What I meant was, what about us? You and I?”

  “What about us?”

  “Are we going to keep on seeing each other?”

  “I certainly hope so. Why wouldn’t we?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was wondering whether this has been just some sort of a road-trip fling for you.”

  “What a thing to say.”

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s some high opinion of me you seem to have. Jesus! For your information, I’m not in the habit of indulging in road-trip flings, as you so charmingly put it.”

  “I already said I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I’m not. I keep forgetting how naïve you are about certain things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as sex.”

  “Well, thanks to being with an experienced guy like you, I’m sure I’m getting over my naiveté, bit by bit.”

  “There you go again. Putting me down because you think there’s something inherently bad about my having been with a lot of different guys.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s obvious. You think I’m promiscuous, and because you’re not, that somehow makes you better than me.”

  “Are we having a fight?”

  “We’re having a discussion, I hope.”

  “Then can I be perfectly honest with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m feeling kind of insecure at the moment, because now that you’ve turned me queer—”

  “I turned you queer?”

  “All right, maybe that’s a poor choice of words.”

  “It’s a goddamn lousy choice of words. You make me sound like some kind of a fucking predator. Next you’ll be saying that I seduced you. That the whole thing was my idea, and you were just a helpless victim.”

  “I’d never say that. It takes two to tango.”

  “And you were ready and willing to tango from the very beginning. Admit it.”

  “All right, I admit it. I was curious. And I liked you. I couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like to have sex with you.”

  “With me specifically, as opposed to with guys in general?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s actually kind of flattering.”

  “As I was trying to say before you got all indignant and defensive on me, now that we’ve been intimate—which I hope is a better choice of words…?”

  “‘Intimate’ I can live with. Go on.”

  “I guess I’m afraid you’re going to lose interest in me and dump me the minute we get back home.”

  “You’re afraid I’m going to dump you the way Eva did.”

  “Wow. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “You don’t have to be much of a psychiatrist to see it that way. Once burned, twice shy. After the way that bitch worked you over, you’re lucky you can get it up with anybody. Which reminds me. If I haven’t said so before, I do want you to know how much I appreciate the fact that you’ve been getting it up with me.”

  Rick let out a snort of laughter. “You have the most romantic way of talking to a guy.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m a man of deeds, not of words.”

  The mood, Ken realized with a sense of relief, had been successfully lightened. Rick changed the subject, as though deliberately steering the conversation toward trivial topics.

  When they spotted an isolated stretch of beach, they stopped for a nude swim. Afterward, still dripping wet, they flung themselves on a beach towel and lay side by side, allowing their bodies to air dry.

  “Hey,” Rick said. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, before. When we were having our ‘discussion.’”

  “Oh, that. Forget it. We were just being honest with each other. No offense taken.”

  “That’s too bad, in a way. That I didn’t say something to piss you off. Because if I had, I could do something to make it up to you, now.”

  “Such as what?”

&nbs
p; “Oh, I bet if we put our heads together, we could come up with a few ideas.”

  “Are you putting the make on me?”

  “Hell, yes,” Rick admitted. “Kind of slow on the uptake today, aren’t you?” He touched Ken’s thigh. “You want to fool around?”

  “Sure.”

  “You want to do anything in particular?”

  “Let’s sixty-nine,” Ken suggested. “You want to?”

  “Sure,” Rick agreed with an eagerness that took Ken by surprise.

  Taking immediate advantage of his friend’s willingness, Ken swung his body around on top of Rick’s, so that his thighs straddled Rick’s head and his own mouth was poised over Rick’s cock. Rick offered no resistance when Ken grasped and lifted his heavy dick up from his stomach and held it upright, like a flagpole pointed at his mouth. Ken pulled back on Rick’s foreskin until the rosy pink cockhead was completely exposed and glistening with a sticky secretion from its slitted tip. Ken lowered his lips until they almost touched his buddy’s turgid meat. Rick’s cock filled his fist, and its thick veins pulsed madly against his palm.

  “Suck it,” Rick pleaded. There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “Stop teasing me. Suck it, if you’re going to, goddamn it. Put my dick in your hot mouth and suck the motherfucking thing for me. Suck the hell out of it.”

  Ken bent down to the waiting prick and took it deeply into his mouth, filling his throat with its solid thickness. He forced his mouth down on Rick’s tool until his face was pressed flush against his belly and the tufts of wiry pubic hair tickled his nostrils. Ken held him like that for as long as he could without breathing, not even moving his tongue on Rick’s cockflesh. He could feel the blood pumping through the veins as they throbbed against his lips, and he was intoxicated by the male scent of Rick’s crotch that filled his nostrils when he finally did inhale.

  Rick began to move his hips under Ken, silently urging him to suck him.

  Taking a firm grip on both of the other man’s thighs, Ken began to suck his cock with long, sure strokes. Ken moved with practiced precision, paying special attention to the several inches of shaft just below the thick, ridged head, where he knew Rick, like most men, was especially sensitive. But he had taken no more than a few thrilling mouthfuls of hard, hot cock when suddenly Rick’s already crumbling passivity seemed to shatter completely, and he began to respond to Ken’s oral lovemaking with a wild, almost desperate enthusiasm.